Soul-Parts
by Captain Harley Quinn
Summary: Only two people have ever seen Kurosaki Ichigo cry. no yaoi. Ichigo, Shirosaki centric.


**Soul Parts**

**Summary: **Only two people have ever seen Kurosaki Ichigo _cry._

**Characters: **Ichigo Kurosaki, Shirosaki Hichigo, Zangetsu, Kuchiki Rukia, Abarai Renji, Inoue Orihime, Ishida Uryuu, Yasutora Sado.

**Pairing: N/A**

**Soul-Parts**

Kurosaki Ichigo hates to cry. It's a messy business, one that involves a horrid fluctuation of tangled emotions and indescribable feelings, and it makes him feel utterly terrible, to be quite truthful. It makes him feel _weak_ and the protector cannot be weak even if he wants to be.

So when he wakes up with a heavy feeling, sunk like a rock in the pit of his stomach, and the unusual burning of _something_ beneath his eyelids, Kurosaki Ichigo knows that this day is going to be an entire mess and that he should never had gotten out of bed.

He's not entirely sure why he feels like he's about to burst into a brilliant show of truly spectacular tears any minute now, doesn't really _want_ to know either but he has this sort of _burning_ in his chest that makes it heavy and itch beyond belief, his eyes burning and stinging in a way that is both familiar and _un_familiar because how long has it been since he last cried?

Rukia wonders whether he is ill, a sort of human disease that they hadn't researched yet, Renji is a little less sympathetic, all curt words and blunt expressions but it kind of comforts Ichigo, because it makes him realise that even though he still feels like absolute _shit_, he's got one person who will always knock him back into position.

Ishida couldn't seem to care less whether he is ill or not, but Ichigo likes to think he didn't just imagine that tiny note of concern, buried relentlessly beneath coldness and disdain and he's sure he didn't imagine the brief brush of a steady hand against his own shaking palm.

Inoue fusses unbearably, talking a mile a minute about things that Ichigo can't even begin to comprehend, he catches the hurried words of _chicken and apple paprika soup_ before he's forced to cut that conversation off early because his chest may be burning and his eyes staining and full of tears that he can't let fall but he doesn't want his head to explode.

But it is Chad that makes Ichigo nervous, that makes his chest feel tight and his legs feel even shakier and eyes burn far more than that morning because Chad has always been able to read him far more better than even Karin and Yuzu and Ichigo sort of holds his breath with all his might that Chad would take that lie that Ichigo has told _far_ to many people at face-value.

He breaths a silent sigh of relief when Chad only stares at him for a moment, his gaze searching, all too knowing and somewhat sad before Chad only nods slightly before turning back, allowing the bald-faced lie Ichigo had just told them to wash over his head.

But it is only when Ichigo, trying not to let his heaving chest and shaking palms and sweaty forehead and shiny eyes that _burned_ show, was left alone, Inoue and Ishida ambling away whilst Rukia and Renji squabbled loudly from a few feet away that Chad - tall silent wonderful Chad - kneels slightly, his single visible eye portraying his worry as he stares silently at a breathless Ichigo before an unfamiliar expression stretches the others face and Chad places a spade-like hand on Ichigos trembling shoulders.

"Go get some rest,"

Is all the giant-like teenager says and Ichigo quite can't contain the sheer _relief_ he feels for Chad in that particular moment because he's not entirely sure how to explain to Chad how his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest if he so much a moved wrongly, how it felt that he would start crying as soon as he so much as _blinked_ and his relief is so tangible that he feels the overwhelming thought to just _hug_ Chad because the teen has always been able to read Ichigo more than anyone.

So he just nods jerkily at Chad, eyes still burning even as he pats the elder teen on the wrist that is attached the hand that Chad has placed on his stumbling shoulder before he abruptly grabs his heavy school bag that had fallen from his shoulder and though he feels the gazes of Inoue and Ishida burn into his shuddering back, he can't let himself look back because if he does, he'll catch sight of Rukia and Renji and he can't allow himself that degree of uncontrollability because if he does his eyes will drown in the thing he most hates.

So he allows Chad to take the flak for him, allows the much larger teen to tell Ochi-sensei that he was feeling to unwell and that he wouldn't be in to day and turns a fifteen minute walk into a five minute run because he doesn't allow anything to distract him from the tearing that it is him chest, because it feels like Zangetsu is trying to strain from his very head even though the Old Man, whist a warrior at heart, was far to gentle with Ichigo.

It feels like he is being ripped to shreds, chewed up and spat back out by something that he's not quite sure of and he _hates_ it. He hates it with a burning passion but he can't stop that lingering sobs that trip from his lips.

So he locks all the doors and even the windows in the house, making sure that no sound would be able to escape before he throws himself into the deepest, most darkest corner of his unlit bedroom and curls up into a little ball, tucking in on himself as buries his face into his trembling knees as he slowly rocks back and forth as he sobs and sobs and _sobs_ because its just_ too much_ and he feels like he's about to explode.

He doesn't cry loudly, just little hiccups and aborted noises that sound strangled as he buries his face even deeper into his knees and tries to pretend that he isn't weak as he tangles long shaking fingers into orange strands as his back knocks rhythmically into the unforgiving wall behind him and he can't be bothered to even think of the bruises that are currently feeling their way across the flesh atop his spine.

His chest feels tight, like he's not able to get enough oxygen and it _terrifies_ him because he's always, _always_ been the strongest, and to not be, to have allowed himself to lose control feels horrible in a way that feels _good_ because he shouldn't always have to hold himself up high with his shoulders thrown back and head held high even whilst all the time he feels like crumpling to the floor and crying his very _heart_ out.

So he does just that, allows himself to cry and cry and _cry_ even though he's not quite sure why he's crying in the first place but then he can't breath, and it feels like his chest is wrapped in steel bands that compress every time he inhales, tightening every-time and never loosening and his mouth feels dry and shrunken even though he can _feel_ saliva pooling into his mouth and it feels like its been filled with cotton wool as he struggles to breath, head lifting up slightly to expose a pale, tear stained face to a blank, unoccupied room as a trembling, tear splotched hand to his chest, rubbing at it in frantic like motions as he tries to _breath_.

A cool hand touching his flushing cheek makes him start but he's too far gone, to far gone crying and not getting enough oxygen to make anything other than a startled whine that sounds more like a strangled whimper, strained thin with inadequate oxygen as another hand takes control of Ichigo's which is still clamped tightly around his shivering knee and presses the orange-haired boys limp hand to a exaggeratedly heaving chest.

Ad abundance of white overtakes his vision, and though his hands stay firmly pressed against the heart-beatless chest, he finds himself calming, as soothing words spoken in a rasping tone filter through his hazy vision.

"-Calm yerself, King," is spoken with uncharacteristic tenderness and Ichigo gives a strangled sound that seems to be more of a whine than a word but the stranger doesn't make any mocking remarks as Ichigo finds himself slowly breathing, flushing face slowly turning blue due to less oxygen.

A half-muttered, half-growled oath sounds through the air and Ichigo can only look at the strange block of sheer whiteness that presses a hand against Ichigos cheek whilst another presses Ichigos hand to his exaggeratedly moving chest as murmured words filter their way into his consciousness.

"Shir-Shiro..._Shirosaki_,"

The word is bitten, breathless and stuttered in a way that makes Ichigo sound even younger than his sixteen years of age and Shirosaki can't help but feel no small amount of anger towards the Soul Society and its useless Shinigami because they have reduced his beautiful, strong King to _this_, a wreck waiting to happen that doesn't even know what's happening to himself.

"Ev'ythin's okay, King," he murmurs again, voice as soft as he can manage as he crouches down in front of the orange- haired Substitute Shinigami. A rasping gasp is his answer and though he'd forever deny it after, he feels a small clench of worry settle heavily in the bottom of his stomach as his King seem to only cry.

It starts like rain, heavy and all-encompassing before it slowly blows over, and Shirosaki feels a slight swell of relief in the pit of his stomach as Ichigo seems to finally calm, hand clenching tightly around the wrist that Is still attached to the hand Shirosaki is still holding against the others cheek.

He eventually calms, though Ichigos chest seem to shiver and shudder, hands trembling as eye sting and burn fiercely and though Shirosaki is unknowing of how the King will react when he is finally in his right mind, the hollow only makes a comforting noise in the back of his throat as the gathers up the shaken creature before him into his white arms, luminescent in the sheer _darkness_ of the room.

He's silent, the only sound is Ichigos hitching breath, as he manages to gather Ichigo close to him, seating the other in his lap and Shirosaki curls himself up around Ichigo, rocking them back and forth. Ichigo releases a sudden, shuddering breath and Shirosaki can feel the abrupt tightening of the others abdominal muscles before Ichigo raises his head from where it had been comfortable tucked under Shirosakis chin.

"Shiro?"

It's spoken half-heartedly, Ichigo's throat half torn and almost mutilated with how he had been screaming and crying like a wounded animal.

"'Ey, King,"

He mutters into the silence of the silence of the room, and he tightens his grip around Ichigo's slim waist as he presses the Shinigami flush against him as he sat, limply between the Hollows splayed legs.

"W'at 'appended there, King?" He asks of Ichigo, and Ichigo doesn't even move, just burrows deeper into the strange coolness of his inner Hollow, bronze and black-sclera eyes fixated on Ichigo as the other clenched a hand in Shirosaki's reversed white Shihakushō as he shivers.

"No' sure,"

Ichigos grammar and speech is usually impeccable, Kami only knows the amount of times the Shinigami had yelled at Shirosaki for his own bitched speech and it only makes Shirosaki frown as he realises that strange slur that is present in the Kings hoarse voice.

The teen is limp, but clutches to Shirosaki as tight as he can so he merely makes an unfamiliar sound in the back of his throat and manipulates the orange-headed teen so he is facing the Hollow, tear-stained face presses protectively into the hollow of the Hollows throat, breath skittering across the others flesh as one of Ichigos hand clench again is Shirosaki's Shihakushō as the teens legs lay, at an angle, splayed within Shirosaki's.

With unusual tenderness that even Shirosaki didn't know he possessed, he clasped the free hand Ichigo had curled against his flushed cheek, tangling his own long fingers in his counterparts even as his other clenched tightly in the material around Ichigos hips.

"Yer don't 'ave ta be strong anymore, King," he whispers into Ichigos orange-hair and he feels the teen stir unconsciously as he slowly falls to sleep but it is Ichigos next, barely heard words, that make the Hollows bronze and black-sclera eyes burn with a sort of rage he's never felt before. "Yer hurt,"

"Can't...let people...see," it makes him burn with anger.

"Ya don't alwa's gotta be ta strong one," Shirosaki says instead. "Le' ya walls down, King,"

"Can't...gotta be the protector..not the..._protected_,"

It makes him angry, so inexplicably _furious_, because Shirosaki knows exactly where his King got that sort of attitude from and he sort of watson to punch Kurosaki Isshin in the face because he's made his son into some sort of Martyr,like a Messiah and the Soul Society has only added to the teens problem.

"Ya need sleep," he muttered, instead of voicing his anger. Ichigo only murmured. Burrowing his face absentmindedly into Shirosaki's chest as he keener lowly, tears still burning his eyes.

"Shirosaki is right, Ichigo," a quiet voice murmurs and Ichigo can only let a quiet sob slip past his lips as he hear the intelligent voice of Zangetsu behind him. Shirosaki quirks an eyebrow, Zangetsu nods."No one can be strong forever,"

"Hav'ta be," Was all Ichigo mutters sleepily, turning so he faces Shirosaki face-one, amber eyes blearily staring into bronze and black-sclera again before they fall to his chest and Ichigo once again buries his face in the white expanse of chest before him.

When Shirosaki glanced at him, Zangetsu was staring at his Shinigami with regret.

"Nah, ya don't, King," Shirosaki mutters quietly and Ichigo raises sleep filled eyes to stare at him. "We'll protect ya," a white fleshed hand tightens around Ichigos and Ichigo smiles slightly, tears still prevalent even as Zangetsu moves so he is sitting in front of them both, standing guard as his wielder is allowed a moment of uncharacteristic weakness.

He doesn't comment on what he hears next.

"You...staying?"

"Ya, I'm stayin',"

"Thank...you,"

The next words are muffled into orange-coloured hair.

"_I'll protect ya_,"


End file.
